


Mother's Day Blues

by hideeho



Series: Mother’s Day/Father’s Day [1]
Category: 9-1-1 (TV)
Genre: Abuela is MVP, Eddie is working on expressing himself, Found family is family, Iffy Family Dynamics, It's a work in progress, M/M, Protective Buck, emotionally repressed eddie
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-11
Updated: 2020-05-11
Packaged: 2021-03-03 04:41:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,983
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24118954
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hideeho/pseuds/hideeho
Summary: It's the first Mother's Day since Shannon's death and Eddie's parents are in town. He's handling it as well as you'd expect. Fortunately he has Buck on his side.
Relationships: Evan "Buck" Buckley/Eddie Diaz (9-1-1 TV)
Series: Mother’s Day/Father’s Day [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1795984
Comments: 63
Kudos: 781





	Mother's Day Blues

Eddie slams his locker door open, the sound ricocheting through the room. Buck wouldn’t be surprised to see a dent in the neighboring locker once the door is closed.

“Hurricane Eddie is still in full force,” Chim mutters beneath his breath, not bothering to tie his shoes in his haste to get out of its path.

He isn’t wrong. Eddie has been in an increasingly foul mood over the last couple of weeks, keeping to himself as if he knows he can’t be trusted around other people. They had hoped he would sleep it off, but they’re about to start another twenty-four hour shift and clearly things have only gotten worse since they saw him last.

He’s currently manhandling the items in his bag as if they had personally insulted his abuela and honestly it’s getting to be ridiculous.

“Hey man, everything okay,” Buck asks for the fiftieth time this week, ignoring Hen’s look of warning as he forces his way into Eddie’s space by leaning against the locker next to him.

“Fine.” _Liar_.

“You sure about that?”

“I said I’m fine, just like I’ve said every single other time you’ve asked me,” Eddie grits out, his jaw ticking in barely repressed irritation. Buck can see he’s trying to force himself to breathe, fighting the itch not to snap his head off. He knows he’s poking at an extremely agitated bear, but giving him space clearly hasn’t been working.

“Well clearly you’re lying,” Buck challenges, crossing his arms across his chest as he continues to lean in, to capture every spare bit of space between them until he can see over that stubborn wall Eddie insists on building between him and everyone else.

“Drop it, Buck.”

“No.”

“I said I’m fine,” Eddie finally snaps, turning to glare at him and not the inside of his locker. From this close he can see the bags under Eddie’s eyes, the way his muscle tense under his shirt as if ready to ward off an attack. He wants to reach out, his hands itching with the desire to rub the tension loose until he gets his friend back.

“Well clearly you’re not,” Buck insists, wishing Eddie would just tell him what was wrong so he could try to fix it. “You have been in a bad mood all week. Barely talking, snapping, taking things out on inanimate objects.”

Eddie sighs, closing his eyes and Buck can practically hear him counting to ten inside his head. “Just drop it. Please.”

“Buck, maybe we should let him be,” Hen begins from behind him, her voice soft and soothing but Buck doesn’t want to hear it. Something is wrong and no one is doing anything about it.

“No, I’m not going to drop it,” Buck says defiantly, tilting his chin up in challenge. “Look, I don’t know what crawled up you ass and died, but—”

Eddie flinches as though Buck has struck him, physically recoiling him for the first time since they met.

“Forget it,” Eddie mumbles, not unkindly, the anger that was bubbling under his skin replaced by a defeated slump of his shoulders. His eyes are trained on the floor as he retreats away from them, not even bothering to shut his locker. Eddie. Retreating. _Eddie_. The same man that went into every situation with a singular focus and his fists (literal and metaphorical) raised. His stomach twists harshly knowing he had pushed too far, even if he still isn't sure how.

Whatever Buck was about to say is gone as he desperately tries to unscramble his brain for how he messed this up. “Eds, I—” Buck finds himself reaching out for him, only to be pulled back by Hen’s hand on his elbow.

“Give him some space, Buckaroo.”

“I don’t understand. What just happened?”

“I think it’s probably a rough time of year for him,” Hen offers, lips pursed in a sad smile.

“That doesn’t make sense. Why would this be a hard time of year,” he questions, scrambling for the missing piece of the puzzle to make any of this make sense.

“It’s Mother’s Day on Sunday.” So? Why would that matter? Oh.

Shannon.

It was the first Mother’s Day since her death.

 _Christopher’s_ first Mother’s Day since her death.

“Shit.”

“Yeah,” Hen agrees with a sigh. “Shit.”

_* * *  
_

Eddie knows he has been a miserable son of a bitch.

He hasn’t meant to be. Has tried to keep his distance so he didn’t take whatever toxic swirl of emotions coursing through his veins out on people who had done nothing to deserve it. Try as he might, he knows he hasn’t been a peach to be around.

Should have known Buck would hone in. Buck who seems to miss nothing no matter how good he is at feigning fine. Not that he’s been exactly subtle lately.

Should have known Buck wouldn’t let anything go.

He doesn’t want to snap at him. ( _Again_ , his mind reminds him mockingly.) Doesn’t want to strike out at him to deflect from things he’d doesn’t know how to voice. He’s trying to be better than he has been in the past. Trying to make countless hours of therapy worth something. Hell, just trying to be a better friend.

So when Buck’s words unknowingly strike at the root of his tension he hides. Okay, maybe not _hides_ , but he makes himself scarce. Years in the army taught him how to find space even when forced in tight quarters.

The thing is he knows Buck. Knows Buck will take the blame for Eddie's hurt even when he’s not at fault. He had been trying to help, Eddie knows that. He simply wasn’t sure how to accept it without falling apart in ways he’s not sure he can patch back together again. Still, that’s on him, not Buck.

“Hey man,” he starts, catching Buck as he slumps towards his car looking like someone kicked his favorite puppy. “Can we talk real quick?”

Buck shifts his duffle bag on his shoulder, his look of relief so palpable Eddie feels it like a punch. “Eddie, man, I’m so sorry.”

“Don’t,” Eddie says, cutting him off with a firm hand on his shoulder. Buck is all muscle and taller to boot, but his blue eyes are so wide and vulnerable he seems like he would blow over with the slightest push. “You didn’t do anything. Yeah, okay, you’re a bit pushy, but I know it’s because you care.”

It’s awkward. He’s awkward. The words are thick on his tongue as he struggles to get out things he’s not used to articulating. Normally he wouldn’t bother, but he doesn’t want to leave things hanging as they are. Buck deserves better. He doesn’t want to add him to the list of people he hurt for being foolish enough to care.

“ _I’m_ sorry, Buck. I’m sorry for being short this week. For being a dick.”

“I just wish you knew you could talk to me,” Buck admits, looking as though he might want to shake him until it got through his head. Maybe it would help.

“I know, I just...I just wasn’t ready to deal with it.”

“And now?”

Eddie lets out a harsh breath, wishing that this came easier to him. Wishing this didn’t have to come to him at all. “I’m trying to.”

“Want to talk about it?”

“No,” Eddie says, far too quickly and there is a beat before they’re both laughing even if none of this is funny. And just like that a wall he has built up has a hole in it and Buck is sledgehammering his way through.

“Chris has robotics today, right? Let’s grab a burger and you can decide how much you want to tell me.” His stomach flips at how Buck not only knows, but seems to care about these minute details of their lives.

Which is how he finds himself sitting in Buck’s jeep in a vacant lot talking over burgers, as if Buck knew it would be easier if he didn’t have to look him in the face.

“We survived Christmas. We survived her birthday. It’s not as if he hasn’t spent a Mother’s Day without her, you know? But knowing she _can’t_ be here this time; knowing she’ll never be there for another one. I thought I had this under control, but then my mother called a few weeks ago to tell me they were coming into town and I don’t know. I don’t know,” he sighs, leaning his head back against the headrest. He hadn’t told Buck a lot about his parents, something they had in common. Which probably told them exactly what they needed to know. “So now I’m hosting a Mother’s Day brunch on Sunday and my son’s mom isn’t going to be there.”

“Please say you’re getting a caterer,” Buck jokes, trying to break the tension. Eddie smacks his arm playfully, but he’s smiling. Buck always has a way of making him feel better. He really is an idiot for not talking to him sooner.

“I can heat up prepackaged food, thank you.”

“Eddie, you can’t serve eggos for Mother’s Day. Let me come over and cook. Bobby has taught me well. Then you can focus on your family and not the food.”

“Why on earth would you do that?”

“Because you’re stressed and I can help.” As if it was just that simple. Only, for Buck it was. “Also, I’d hate for you to give abuela food poisoning on Mother’s Day.”

“I love you,” he says without thinking, only tacking on a “man” as an afterthought. As if that changed anything.

If Buck thinks anything of it he lets it slide, clamping down on his knee with a greasy hand. Normally he’d berate him for it, but his tongue seems to be lodged in his throat.

“Love you, too.”

_* * *_

By Eddie’s fifth trip to check in on him Buck has stopped taking it personally and started to realize he’s hiding.

Eddie’s mother might be a slight woman, but it took roughly three seconds of her sizing him up when she arrived for him to realize how formidable she was. Fortunately his abuela was quick to save him with a kiss to each cheek.

Eddie's family were playing with Chris in the living room leaving him to prep the food and Eddie to run interference.

“Seriously man, I don’t know how I’m ever going to repay you,” Eddie breathes, carrying over four mugs ready for a refill.

“It’s eggs, Eddie. It’s no big deal.”

“It’s a _frittata_.”

“Eggs.”

“Fancy eggs.” Buck rolls his eyes, checking on said eggs to make sure they were coming along properly. He wasn’t about to let Bobby down on one of his signature recipes.

“Still, I can’t thank you enough for this. I owe you, even more than I already did.” Eddie is looking at him so earnestly that he feels himself blush at the praise. He opens his mouth to reply when Eddie’s mother walks into the room.

“What exactly do you owe him for,” she asks, still eyeing Buck over as if she is trying to make sense of his presence here. He hadn't missed her displeased look at how reluctant Chris was to leave his side when they arrived.

“Buck has been a big help,” Eddie says, looking so grateful that Buck finds himself standing a little taller. “He’s actually the one that introduced us to Carla.”

“Oh right, the aide,” his mother says with a derision that brings him back to being ten years old in his father’s house. “I’m surprised you didn’t invite her as well. Seeing as she’s practically raising him.”

Eddie bristles visibly at the obvious jab, but says nothing, busying himself with refilling the coffee instead. Buck can only stand there dumbfounded, forcing himself to stand back and let Eddie fight his own battle.

“She has her own family,” Eddie responds tiredly. “She’s a big help. We’re lucky to have her.”

“Better than his own flesh and blood, is that it?” Buck bites his tongue until he tastes copper. “And how much does this big help cost you?”

“Can we not do this now," Eddie replies weakly, gesturing to Buck. "I’ve got it covered.”

“Seeing as you seem to evade every other attempt for us to talk I don’t believe we can. So how about it? The fancy school? Robotics? Not to mention I hear he’s taking an art class now.”

“Nothing a few extra shifts can’t cover.”

“So much for you actually spending time with him,” his mother says, throwing her hands up in exasperation.

Buck waits for Eddie to bristle with anger, to see the telltale tension form in his shoulders. Instead, he sinks into himself in a way he knows from childhood. The way you do when you’re in the middle of a fight you can’t win so you have to wait for it to blow over. It’s only the second time Buck has seen Eddie shrink from a fight and he hates it.

“Eddie does everything with Christopher. He’s a great father,” Buck says, unable to hold his tongue any longer and stepping in between Eddie and his mother.

“I’m sure you think that,” she responds easily, squaring her shoulders to meet Buck’s gaze head on. So that’s where he gets it from. “Seeing as you don’t have your own children.”

“I don’t need kids to know any child would be lucky to have him,” Buck responds, forcing himself to remain civil even in the midst of his confusion on how this was even a conversation.

“Buck,” Eddie cuts in, looking lost in his own home. “Just drop it, it’s fine.” He wants to protest, but the look on Eddie’s face makes him hesitate, but then his mother continues.

“You’ve played at this enough, Eddie. That boy needs his family, not a collection of strangers,” she adds, eyeing Buck as she does. “I know you love him. I know you’re doing what you can, but it’s time to admit that it’s not enough. Shannon is not coming back and that boy deserves better than what you can give.”

“ _Enough_ ,” Buck snaps, startled by the venom in his own voice.

“Who do you think you are?”

“He’s family,” Eddie cuts in, as if suddenly sprung to life now that she had turned her ire on him. The feel of Eddie’s hand on the small of his back is a surprise, but a welcome one. “He’s _my_ family. He loves Christopher and we love him. I might not be able to do this on my own, but I’m not alone out here. We’re _lucky_ to have him.”

Eddie’s mother looks like she’s going to protest when his abuela steps into the room. “Helena, Christopher wants to show you the Mother's Day card he made you.”

“In a minute, we’re not done talking.”

“You did come out here to see him, did you not? Looks like the conversation is done to me.” Helena falters under the intense stare of her mother-in-law and she leaves the kitchen without another word.

Isabel walks over to them, reaching up to place a palm on each of their cheeks. “Pay her no mind, hm? You’re doing wonderfully. I’m proud of you, Eddito.” And just like that she leaves, buying them a few moments of peace before the meal.

“Eddie, look, I’m sorry if I stepped out of line.”

Strong arms drag him forward forcefully, wrapping around him tightly as if clinging to life itself. He can feel Eddie’s ragged breath against his neck as he squeezes back just as tightly. “ _Thank you_.”

“For yelling at your mother?”

“For being here. For me. For Chris. For believing in me.” He knows words don’t come easily to Eddie, knows the precious gift that’s being offered to him.

“ _Of course_.” As if there was ever any question. He would have done anything to have a parent that loved him half as much as Eddie loved Christopher. “I don’t really know what this was and you don’t need to tell me, but that kid is so lucky to have you. So am I.”

Eddie pulls back, his hands lingering on his waist. Eddie doesn’t look like he believes him, but he’ll spend the rest of his life convincing him until he does.

“I’m the lucky one,” Eddie says, tilting his head up to look him directly in the eyes as he does. “I’m going to make this up to you.”

“I’ve told you, you have nothing to make up for. I want to be here.” _With you._

“I want to.”

“Oh yeah? And what do you propose,” Buck challenges, crowding him against the counter.

“How about Father’s Day brunch?”

“Are you going to invite your parents,” Buck teases with a snort, anything to distract from the sudden flip in his stomach.

“No, it’ll be just for family.” Family. He likes the sound of that. "I love you."

It's not the first time he has said it, but this time doesn't feel like a mistake or a throwaway. He should know better than to hope for things he can't have, but he finds himself hoping once again. "I love you, Eddie." And for a brief moment it looks like Eddie's eyes flicker down to his lips, like he might lean forward, like he might be able to close the distance and to take what he has been so scared to dream about.

"Daddy, why does it smell like it's burning?"

"The _frittata_ ," Buck exclaims, turning to the oven to see his masterpiece ruined.

"Don't worry, Buck, I still have those eggos," Eddie says, swinging Christopher up in his arms and laughing loud enough to fill the entire house.

"I like eggos," Christopher offers helpfully, patting his cheek in comfort.

Breakfast might be ruined, but Eddie is laughing and relaxed and he'll chalk that up as a win.

**Author's Note:**

> Comments and kudos are loved and adored.


End file.
